


The Hunter and Banshee

by hazelNuts



Series: Teen Wolf Femslash Bingo [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a vigilante in the big city is proving to be a challenge for Lydia. Thankfully, on her first night of looking for crimes to stop, a fellow vigilante invites her to team up. Now, if only Lydia would stop developing a crush on the other woman and her cute neighbour and friend, Allison, at the same time.</p><p>
  <i>One of the dangers of having all that noise inside her head, is that it can block out the sounds of the real world, which is how the woman crouched on the ledge of the roof less than ten feet to Lydia’s left, managed to get so close. She’s wearing a dark brown suit of what appears to be leather, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows strapped to her back.</i>
</p><p>For Teen Wolf Bingo prompt: Allydia & Teen Wolf Femslash Bingo prompt: Superhero AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunter and Banshee

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I forgot any tags, please let me know in the comments.

**Now**

The heart monitor beeps.

The air-conditioning whirs softly.

Lydia can’t take her eyes off the hospital bed where Allison is lying. She pushes a hand through her hair, forgetting she put it in a bun earlier, and pulls her hair painfully. She scoots her chair closer to the bed to slide her hand under Allison’s, lacing their fingers together.

Closing her eyes, Lydia listens to the noise in her head. There are plenty of names, gunshots, sirens, the deep breaths of someone sleeping, rain tapping against a window, crowds, music. All of them are linked to deaths, but none of them are linked to Allison.

Allison is not going to die. Lydia knows that, but she also knows the frailty of the human body, the way it sometimes turns against itself. So until Allison wakes up, Lydia is going to keep listening.

She turns over Allison’s hand to face the palm up. Everything about Allison is warm, inviting, except for her hands. The calluses and scars make the skin feel rough, despite all the hand lotion Allison uses.

 _Hand lotion._ Lydia dives to pull open the bag at her feet. Rooting through it with one hand isn’t easy, but finally her hand clasps around the little bottle of Allison’s favourite lotion. Lydia sighs in relief, then huffs at herself in amusement. What a silly thing to worry about. But it’s all she can do for now.

A nurse comes in and Lydia kicks the bag under the bed, wincing at the clanging of metal against metal, but the noises of the machines and the squeaking of the nurse’s shoes are loud enough that the nurse doesn’t hear it. The nurse gives her a nod, then goes to check the monitors and writes something on Allison’s chart. Lydia thinks she recognizes her, but she can’t remember the woman’s name.

‘Do you need anything, Dr Martin?’ the nurse asks.

‘No, thank you.’

The nurse leaves, throwing Lydia a sympathetic smile before exiting the room.

Lydia goes back to tracing the calluses and scars on Allison’s palm. She was probably there for a couple of these, but the stories behind most of them are a mystery. After tonight, she realizes that a lot about Allison is a mystery.

 

**Three months ago**

Lydia’s carrying the last of her boxes up to her second floor apartment, her mind already on the nice long bath she’s going to take later. Maybe she’ll order some food first, then she can eat while bathing. Yeah, that would be nice.

With a groan of relief she takes the last step onto her floor and sets the box on top of the others by her apartment door. Why did she get an apartment on the second floor of a building without an elevator? And she still has to get everything _into_ her apartment. She wishes working as a deputy coroner for the LAPD paid better, maybe then she would’ve been able to afford big muscly guys that moved her stuff for her.

‘Need some help?’

The question is asked by a brown-haired woman standing in the doorway of the apartment next to Lydia’s. She’s wearing shorts and a tank top, revealing strong arms and legs.

‘That would be great. Thank you,’ Lydia nods in relief.

They talk as they move the boxes inside. Lydia finds out that the woman’s name is Allison; she’s single, works as a kindergarten teacher a couple blocks from their building, her dimples and sparkling eyes make Lydia’s heart give a little flutter, and make her stand up a little taller. Lydia takes pride in how she looks, so even though she’s not looking her best right now—sweaty, dusty, her hair in a messy bun—she’s going to rock the “I just moved houses” look as best she can.

When all the boxes are in their proper rooms, though still unpacked, Allison invites Lydia over for dinner at her place. Lydia forgets all about her bath and gladly accepts.

 

**Two and a half months ago**

It’s Lydia’s first patrol in LA. Although “patrol” might be the wrong word, since she doesn’t actually move around. She finds a building high enough that the sounds of the city are muted, distant, then closes her eyes and focusses on the sounds and voices inside her head. She focusses until she gets a name, a sound, or even just a feeling strong enough to follow. It doesn’t look like that will be happening tonight, though. She’d known that picking something up in a city as big as LA would be harder than in the small town she left behind—more people, more possibilities, more variables, life and death often passing within inches of each other—but it hasn’t even been ten minutes and the noise inside Lydia’s head has already become a cacophony so loud she can feel a headache coming on. She opens her eyes with a frustrated sigh.

One of the dangers of having all that noise inside her head, is that it can block out the sounds of the real world, which is how the woman crouched on the ledge of the roof less than ten feet to Lydia’s left, managed to get so close. She’s wearing a dark brown suit of what appears to be leather, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows strapped to her back. Her hair is pulled back into a severe bun, and her face is mostly hidden behind a mask. The smile underneath that mask looks amused.

‘Were you meditating?’ the woman asks, sounding genuinely curious.

‘Of a sort,’ Lydia nods. She goes through her mental folder of LA vigilantes until she hits on the most likely one. ‘You must be The Hunter.’

The smile on the woman’s face grows. ‘It’s nice to know at least one person didn’t assume I was a guy. You’re new. What do you call yourself?’

‘Banshee.’

The Hunter’s almost relaxed posture turns wary, and one of her hands moves to her thigh, slipping a knife out of a thigh holster Lydia hadn’t noticed before.

‘A harbinger of death.’

‘Banshees _predict_ death,’ Lydia says. ‘We’re not actually supposed to try and stop them, but some rules are meant to be broken.’

The Hunter relaxes a little at that, even if she doesn’t let go of the knife. She moves closer to where Lydia is sitting, then sits down, mirroring Lydia’s cross-legged position. Even with the mask covering most of the woman’s face, Lydia can see her squinting to try to see through the veil Lydia wears. She’s also very obviously checking Lydia for weapons. Lydia doesn’t tell her that all she needs is her voice.

‘How does it work?’

‘I get sounds in my head, sometimes voices, sometimes just a feeling. I try to pick out the one that is loudest. These are usually the ones that are most imminent, and then I follow that thread until I get to whatever asshole thinks it’s okay to take a human life.’ Lydia knows she can get passionate about her night job sometimes, but every body that ends up on one of the tables in the morgue feels like a failure.

‘I mostly just go from roof to roof until I find trouble,’ the Hunter muses. She’s still holding the knife, but she’s twirling it in her fingers, playing with it, instead of gripping it like she’s ready for a fight. ‘Your way seems a little more effective. You want some help?’

Lydia blinks in surprise. She’s never teamed up before. The small town she left behind didn’t have a lot of crime, so it didn’t really need vigilantes either. She hadn’t even needed a suit. It had been a little lonely, though. She’s never been able to share this part of her life with anyone, and now there is a leather clad woman asking her to spend her nights with her. And Lydia has to disappoint her.

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t pick out anything tonight. There is too much noise.’

‘You mean from the street?’

‘In my head,’ Lydia explains. ‘There are too many variables with so many people living so close together. So much is happening at the same time.’

‘Well, maybe you just need some practice. But until then, you can tag along with me,’ The Hunter smiles. She stands up and holds out her hand. Lydia grabs it and lets herself be pulled up. This close, Lydia can see the pink of full lips, the strong line of the woman’s jaw, and the shadows of dimples half-hidden beneath the mask.

‘I’d like that.’

 

**Two Weeks Ago**

‘I brought Chinese food,’ Lydia says when Allison opens her door.

‘Nice.’

It sounds enthusiastic, but there’s an undercurrent that makes Lydia uneasy, and the set of Allison’s shoulders is tense.

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, it’s— It’s just a work thing. A night of Chinese food and Netflix is exactly what I need.’ Allison turns on her TV and PlayStation, and hands a controller to Lydia. ‘What do you want to watch? You can pick anything you like. Movie, show, documentary. Whatever.’

‘Anything?’ Lydia smiles sweetly. She knows exactly what she wants to watch. Allison has vetoed it for the past two weeks, but she did say anything, so… ‘ _The Notebook_.’

Allison groans, pretending to faint dramatically on the couch.

‘You said anything,’ Lydia points out, poking Allison’s leg.

‘Fine, but I get an extra eggroll.’

Watching Netflix while eating take out every Tuesday has quickly become a tradition. It’s a nice interlude between her day and night jobs, even if Lydia always wishes she could stay longer. She loves spending time with Allison, who has been an amazing friend from the start, showing Lydia around the city, helping her unpack, pointing out all the creeps in their building so Lydia knows who to avoid. It hadn’t taken long for Lydia to start feeling something else besides friendship for Allison, a want for something closer, for soft touches and soft feelings. With that _want_ , came an urgency behind Lydia’s vigilante duties. Allison’s name has popped up more than once in Lydia’s head when trying to find a thread to follow. Allison’s threads have never been very strong or urgent, but on those nights Lydia never strays far from the apartment building. The Hunter never says anything, understanding that there are things Banshee can’t tell her.

And that’s another problem: The Hunter. Because while Allison makes Lydia’s stomach flutter, the Hunter makes her heart race. It’s not surprising, considering how similar the two women are. Both bold, kind, tough, and don’t forget the dimples. Lydia never realized that she has a type, before now.

When the Chinese food’s gone and the movie’s ended, Lydia realizes she’s sitting a lot closer to Allison than she thought. She’s sure there was at least a foot between them when the movie started, but now, her head is on Allison’s shoulder, Allison’s fingers carding through her hair. Lydia’s feet are tucked under her so that she’s effectively curled into Allison’s side.

‘I have to go,’ Lydia states.

‘It is getting late,’ Allison agrees.

Neither of them moves until the credits are done rolling.

 

**Earlier That Evening**

Lydia doesn’t like storms. Storms are chaos, they make the world restless. People make rash decisions, lash out where they normally would’ve taken a second to calm themselves. And those are just the psychological effects of a storm. There’s also less visibility on the roads which means more accidents, and tires losing their grip on the wet asphalt. Chaos in the world means chaos in Lydia’s head.

A woman two blocks away almost steps in front of a car she couldn’t see through the deluge, before quickly stepping back at the faint glint of approaching headlights. Just in time.

Across the street, two people are fighting. She reaches for a vase to throw at his head. Then their baby starts to cry and she changes her mind. Just in time.

Lydia rubs her temples. It’s no use.

‘Nothing?’ The Hunter asks.

‘Too much,’ Lydia grimaces.

The Hunter grabs Lydia’s hand and squeezes. It brings Lydia out of her head the rest of the way.

They’ve become a good team, The Hunter and Banshee. It took them a little while to find a rhythm, but now they work together almost seamlessly, filling in the spaces where the other is weaker without even having to think about it anymore.

The Hunter has helped with practicing finding threads to follow as well, something Lydia didn’t expect. At first, the other woman had simply sat next to Lydia, waiting silently until Lydia found something or gave up in frustration. The Hunter was the one to suggest that Lydia needed a focal point, something she could focus on when she got too lost in the sounds in her head.

The Hunter had taken off her glove and held out her hand for Lydia. Lydia had hesitantly taken it, but that first time, when she’d tried again, she’d found her first clear thread to follow in weeks. They’d saved a fifteen year-old boy that night.

‘You want to try again?’ The Hunter asks, still holding Lydia’s hand.

‘No. It’s the storm. It’s like trying to tune a radio with nothing but interference on every channel.’

‘So we do it the old fashioned way tonight. We go prowling.’

Lydia nods, and stands up. She holds on to The Hunter’s hand. That’s been happening a lot. Hand holding, casual touches that are bordering on non-casual touches. It’s confusing, because she loves it, loves being this close with The Hunter, even though she doesn’t really know anything about the woman. And, of course, there’s Allison. Allison with her bright smile and kind eyes, always generous with her hugs, never keeping anything secret.

‘You look like you need a little cheering up,’ The Hunter says. She lets go of Lydia’s hand, grabs her bow and notches an arrow.

Something flickers in Lydia’s mind, but it’s too fleeting to grab onto it. She wishes The Hunter was still holding her hand.

The Hunter fastens something from her belt to the arrow. It’s a line. It looks a bit like a metallic fishing line.

This time Lydia can catch what flickers through her mind: _Allison._ Is it her Allison? She looks off in the direction of their apartment building. Allison should be home tonight, working on lesson plans.

‘I tried this out when you had to work a nightshift the other day,’ The Hunter continues. She pulls the bowstring back and aims at a building across the street.

Allison’s name flickers in and out of Lydia’s head. She looks around desperately. It’s like Allison is close, almost like she’s… right next to her.

Lydia reaches out to grab The Hunter’s arm, to stop her from letting that arrow fly, but it’s too late. The arrow is halfway across the street when the lightning hits. Electricity travels down the line, a blue flash that reaches Allison in the blink of an eye. Allison’s body goes rigid, her eyes widening as several thousand volts travel through her body. Then, she goes slack and crumples to the roof.

Lydia screams.

 

**Now**

Lydia yawns wide. She’s been here for hours now, although the first hour is a blur. There was so much rushing of nurses and doctors, and she’d been so dazed by her worry and the revelations of the night that she barely managed to tell the doctors her cover story for what happened: not realizing there was also a lightning storm, and not just rain, Allison had gone onto the roof of their apartment building to grab the jacket she’d left there when they were up there earlier that day.

When a nurse asked her if there was anyone they should call, Lydia had roused herself a little and made the phone call to Allison’s parents herself. Mr and Mrs Argent were on the other side of the world for business, but they’d be in LA as soon as they could.

After that, there was nothing for her to do but to wait. Finally a doctor came to tell her that Allison was stable, though still unconscious, and that she could visit if she wanted to. Lydia’s been by Allison’s side ever since. Technically, she wasn’t allowed since she wasn’t a family member, but she knows the doctor treating Allison, and he’d given her a pass.

Lydia yawns again, even wider than before. She lays her cheek on Allison’s palm. She going to close her eyes. For just a minute. The rough skin of Allison’s palm warm and reassuring against her the skin of her cheek.

She’s barely closed her eyes when she feels a twitch in Allison’s hand. Lydia shoots up, scanning Allison’s face for any signs that she’s waking up. Her eyeballs move more rapidly behind the lids, and slowly Allison starts to blink open her eyes. Lydia doesn’t expect her to wake up entirely. But as always, Allison is a bit of an overachiever and once her eyes are open, they stay open.

Allison’s brow scrunches in confusion when she looks around the room. She visibly relaxes when she sees Lydia.

‘Hey.’ Allison’s voice is scratchy and soft.

‘Hey,’ Lydia says past the lump in her throat. ‘I’m going to get a nurse.’

Lydia waits just outside the room, staying out of the way of nurses and doctors. She listens to the answers Allison gives to the all the questions, more out of relief that Allison is talking then out of interest in Allison’s status. Allison is talking. She’s talking _coherently._ And when the nurses leave the room, they all look slightly stunned at how well Allison seems to be doing.

‘Can you ask Lydia to come back inside?’ Lydia hears Allison ask Dr Geyer.

‘You should rest Miss Argent,’ Dr Geyer says sternly.

‘I’m sure Dr Martin will make sure I get the rest I need,’ Allison says sweetly.

Lydia presses her lips together when she hears Dr Geyer huff in amusement.

‘Alright, but in fifteen minutes I’m sending in a nurse to send her home. Dr Martin needs her rest, too.’

When Dr Geyer walks out of the room he shakes his head at the stubbornness of his patient, then turns to Lydia.

‘She has a mild concussion, a couple bruises, though I’m not sure they are from tonight,’ Dr Geyer informs her. ‘Otherwise, she seems to be in near perfect health. Keep an eye on her the next couple months. If she starts showing signs of dizziness, lapses of memory, or sudden, unexplained pains, get her back here.’

‘I will,’ Lydia assures him.

‘Well then, Dr Martin, my patient wants to see you.’ With smile, Dr Geyer gestures for her to go inside.

She sits back down into the chair by Allison’s bed. Mirroring Allison’s smile, she takes Allison’s hand in her own again. Allison squeezes it tightly.

‘What are you doing here?’ Allison asks. ‘How did you even know I was here? I’m pretty sure my parents are still my emergency contacts.’

‘I brought you here.’

‘How—‘ Allison’s eyes widen in realization. ‘You can’t tell anyone.’

Lydia rolls her eyes. She digs out her own veil and holds it up for Allison to see. Allison’s reaction is easily read from the heart monitor. At first, her heart skips a beat, then it briefly spikes, and then it settles down again.

‘You’re Banshee.’

Lydia nods. She’s expecting some questions—she definitely has some for Allison—but she doesn’t expect Allison to burst out laughing.

‘Something funny about that?’ Lydia asks, raising her eyebrows.

Allison nods and takes a couple deep breaths, trying to force herself to stop laughing.

‘I’m in love with you,’ she says, smiling broadly. Lydia feels her chest expand. She smiles, but before she can say anything, Allison continues, ‘I’m also in love with Banshee. God, this makes everything so much less complicated.’

Lydia lifts Allison’s hand to press a kiss against the wrist. When the heart monitor skips a beep, Lydia quickly puts Allison’s hand back down, and looks up into Allison’s blushing face.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://fandom-madnessess.tumblr.com/).


End file.
